Steal That Car
by Doors
Summary: Scabior's been roped into yet another one of Greyback's schemes for werewolf dominance, despite not actually being a werewolf. He doesn't mind, really, but he's beginning to wish he hadn't agreed to let Greyback drive.


_Everybody knows I'm gonna steal that car_  
_My reputation shows I'm gonna steal that car_  
**_—_****Steal That Car**, Alice Cooper

How he had found himself tied up in another of Greyback's mad schemes, Scabior couldn't quite reason to himself. He'd been in Azkaban not two weeks ago. It had been quieter there. Not nice in the slightest, but quiet, at least. Sure, the screaming kept him up at night and when he did sleep he was haunted by the faces of all the people he'd wronged in his life, but at least he wasn't being used as a pawn in Greyback's plan for werewolf dominance. He wasn't even a werewolf, for crying out loud.

But Azkaban had been broken open, and Scabior had been freed. There was sun, and grass, and music for the first time in so long. Fresh, clean thoughts. No more maniacs. Of course, that wasn't quite true. It hadn't been more than three days before he'd gone looking for the people he had known before he went in. He wasn't a proper Death Eater, still, and really the only jobs he had were issued by Greyback, who claimed to work on the Dark Lord's orders but really just did whatever the hell he wanted.

Greyback hated wizards, but he seemed in some small way fond of Scabior, allowing him to assist him with whatever mad plan he'd concocted. Greyback probably was, Scabior had thought to himself more than once, certifiably insane. Fortunately, he liked Scabior enough not to turn him into his next meal. Unfortunately, this fondness manifested itself as Greyback demanding Scabior do whatever he was told to, on the understanding that if he did not, Greyback _would_ turn him into his next meal. This usually didn't bother Scabior much, because he was just happy to be involved – but it occasionally involved more than demeaning tasks.

He'd had to act as a decoy more often than he'd care to remember. On one particular occasion he'd been forcibly dressed in drag and told to push a perambulator around a small town. Once he'd been allowed to play a 'Lord Ernest Wright', though, and he'd gotten to go clay pigeon shooting and had wooed many a beautiful lady, and he'd quite enjoyed that. More often than not, though, he just had to do a lot of the legwork. He didn't really mind; he and Greyback had an odd sort of relationship. They enjoyed each others' company immensely, but pretended to hate one another. That was just how it was. Probably because of the whole werewolf thing.

But in Azkaban, Scabior had had time to reflect. It was nice not to have to be caught up in Dark activities, for once. And when he'd gotten out, for a couple of days he swore he was a changed man. He was going to hide from the Death Eaters, fly under their radar. He wasn't one of them, after all: he was a free man. But he got lonely, and bored, and before he knew it he was welcomed back with open arms. Greyback, it turned out, was surprisingly cuddly and had missed him a lot, but he quickly took back anything almost nice he had done by threatening to kill Scabior if he ever touched him again – which was a bit unfair, Scabior thought, seeing as Greyback was the one who'd initiated their hug in the first place.

But now he found himself in the middle of a Muggle city, in a train station, studying a complicated, over-colourful map, wandless, and wondering why he hadn't just run off to a nice, obscure corner of Switzerland or something. Greyback wanted him involved in 'recruiting' a new werewolf to his pack, or maybe eating the kid. Scabior didn't ask for the gory details. He just knew that he was there to make sure it all went according to plan, that the family of the child he wanted were... distracted. But before he did anything, they had to get there, and Scabior had no idea how. It was somewhere far in the middle of the countryside, and as Scabior stood squinting at train and bus timetables, he felt more than a little self-conscious.

Beside him, Greyback, who seemed to consider himself above perusing such Muggle materials, had delegated the job to Scabior and was now standing glowering at passers-by, snarling occasionally. Scabior wished he would stop. He was drawing attention to them. It wasn't as though people didn't notice him anyway – he was enormous and dirty and he _looked_ like a werewolf.

"Ain't no buses go out there," said Scabior, tracing the map with his finger, and Greyback's gaze was drawn from a young woman he'd been watching in a predatory sort of way. She glanced at him, pulled her bag closer to her, and quickened her pace. Greyback shot her a horrible grin and then turned to Scabior.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no routes goin' out that way," Scabior reaffirmed.

"How do you suggest we get there, then?"

"Well, I dunno, do I? It weren't my idea."

A growl rumbled at the back of Greyback's throat, and he shifted closer to Scabior, who felt hot breath down the back of his neck.

"...but I'll think of somethin'," he finished hurriedly.

"Make it quick," said Greyback in a low voice, baring his teeth in a snarl at a passing little boy, who hurried to catch up with the rest of his family. "I haven't got all night, you know."

"Right," murmured Scabior. "It's your, er – time of the month, ain't it?"

Greyback gave him a murderous look. "It wasn't funny the first time and it isn't funny now."

"Course," said Scabior, trying to come up with a practical, nonmagical solution. "Sorry. Er. We could always – y'know – steal a car."

"That's an excellent idea. Can you do that?"

"Please," scoffed Scabior. "I spent 'alf my teenage life stealin' cars. C'mon." He jerked his head towards the car park.

Greyback followed him, and they both tried to look as though they were entirely innocent. Scabior privately didn't think Greyback was doing a particularly good job; he didn't imagine Greyback had ever looked innocent in his whole life. It was all trench coats and mud and glowers with him. Scabior kept a few paces ahead, and he was able to see a man park his car and pocket the keys, not looking in their direction at all. Surreptitiously, Scabior knocked shoulders with him while passing.

"Terribly sorry, sir."

The man frowned at him. "It's… fine, just... watch where you're going."

Scabior nodded at him, and the man held his gaze for a while, somewhat suspiciously, before turning and hurrying off, seemingly sensing something was up. Scabior watched him go, and he almost collided with Greyback.

"Oh – I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to bite your head off..."

With a chuckle, Scabior approached the car after he was sure the man was round the corner and out of sight. Greyback got there at almost the same time, and his hand was on the handle of the door before Scabior had a chance to reach out for it.

"What're you doin'?" he demanded, as Greyback pulled the door open and hoisted his bulk into the driver's seat.

"Driving," said Greyback, looking up at him as though it was obvious, and Scabior had no choice but to sigh, and roll his eyes, and storm around the car to the passenger's side.

"You do know I've got the keys, yeah?" he said, as they pulled their doors shut with a bang.

"Of course," said Greyback, and Scabior knew that he did not. "Give them to me."

Scabior handed them over, and stared as Greyback dangled them in front of his own face.

"What's this?" he asked – there was a tiny stuffed teddy bear hanging from the keychain.

"It's a little teddy bear, I think," said Scabior, peering at it.

"I know," said Greyback, shaking his head. "But what's it for? What does it do? What is the purpose of this? A child would swallow it, and you wouldn't be able to sell it for anything."

"I dunno, I s'pose the Muggles just thinks it looks pretty."

"Huh."

"So, we gonna drive, or...?" Scabior always got a little edgy after a while on nights like this, when he knew the full moon was coming.

"Yes, alright, just give me a moment," said Greyback, and he looked at the keys, and then he tapped them on the steering wheel. He said nothing, and when nothing happened, he tried it again, looking confused.

"Greyback," said Scabior, "do you know 'ow to drive?"

"Of course I do!" snapped Greyback, and then after a moment admitted, "No. I don't."

Scabior sighed. "You put the keys in the ignition thingie down there. Yeah. Just there." Greyback shot him a look of contempt as he jammed the key into the hole. "Then you turn, and–"

"Aargh!"

"Yeah, that's the engine..."

"All right," said Greyback, after a couple of deep breaths. "Shall we?" He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, and the engine roared, but the car moved nowhere. Brow furrowed, he tried again, and again, the engine getting louder with each try. Scabior closed his eyes and began to massage his forehead. After a couple of minutes, Greyback decided to give up. "How–?"

"Use the clutch," said Scabior. "The one on the left," he clarified, as Greyback looked to the darkness at his feet. "'Old it in," he said, "and let it go when you press the–"

The engine spluttered, the car jerked forward, and then went silent.

"–accelerator," finished Scabior.

Greyback made a mangled sort of snarling noise, and his nails dug into the steering wheel.

"'Ey, come on now, it's fine. Just go slower. It's easy, really, you just 'ave to find the bitin' point."

Greyback looked at him incredulously. "Biting point?"

"Yeah, it's – oh. Not that kinda bitin' point," said Scabior. "You 'ave to balance the two." He made hand motions. "Course, if you wanted, I could always–"

"No."

"–shut up and let you get on with it," Scabior amended.

"That would probably be a wise decision," said Greyback, and he started the car again, and it ground to a halt again. Scabior said nothing, and he said nothing the next six or seven times either, and when Greyback finally got the car moving, Scabior took off the handbrake without mentioning it.

The car rambled slowly towards the exit, and as they approached the road, Greyback hit the brake, and it shuddered to a halt once more.

"For _fuck's sake_!"

"It's the clutch," said Scabior wearily. "You 'ave to use it when you put on the brake. And when you change gears."

Greyback ignored him, and started the car again, pulled slowly out into the road (in front of an irate Muggle driver) and promptly conked out again. Scabior rolled his eyes as Greyback twisted the key in the ignition once more, and he buckled his seatbelt across his lap. The car jerked and twitched the whole way up the road. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

_Written for Gamma Orionis' OTP Boot Camp Challenge with the prompt 'practical'._


End file.
